Prabhakar Subramaniam

A hell of your own

The roof is whereI come up for airAfter the day's fighting is doneFrom my cornerLittered with dead leaves and limbsI watch planesHeading for greener pastures.Why is paradise, always, beyond the skylineHappiness, always, somewhere elseThe victor, always, someone elseWhy are the stars farther away than yesterdayThe moon so reluctant to riseThe breeze still trapped in the treesAt this hour of retreatWhy do I think of someoneCondemned to eternal painThough allowed to suffer unseen